Gears of War: Contempt
by TheChees3
Summary: Follow the plight of Rho Squad, a group of Gears in the COG Army, as they struggle to turn the tide against the Locust onslaught a year after E-Day, all the while fighting their instinctive obligation to humanity as well. :This is currently a quick rough draft of some chapters of a first attempt at fan fiction. It features original, non-canon characters. Thanks for reading it!:
1. Chapter 1: Lamentations

It had been a while since the world ended.

A year and a handful of months beyond E-Day. Cliff had stopped counting the days after he lost his family during his nation's evacuation. He was one of the lucky ones, living so close, or so they told him. He'd never recover from the loss of his wife and children, no matter how many times they told him their sacrifice was not in vain. It was completely in vain. The wicked COG had scorched the planet in a 'strategic maneuver' against the horde, trying to wipe clean the plague of the Locust. All it did was cause death, pain, suffering, and destruction. Not to mention it left the COG vastly outnumbered, and stranded the majority of what was left of humanity in outposts they were forced to rebuild themselves. The COG sure wasn't going to do it. All they were concerned about was saving face these days.

Cliff mulled over these things constantly, reinforcing his hatred of the Coalition of Ordered Governments. He sat in silence as the transport carrying him, a squad of COG soldiers, and several of what have come to be aptly known as 'Stranded' humans to a safe zone. It was a feeble rescue/relocation mission led by Rho Squad as a sort of PR move. 'Saving face again,' he'd muttered as the transport had been pulling up to the community's gate. Still, it was a way to get these people away from the threat of Locust attack. The Oblivion Central Squatters Camp wasn't really safe enough anymore.

Looking around the cabin of the ground transport, Cliff took account of the faces in the room. Many were covered by standard-issue COG helmets, but the Stranded faces were those of women and children. Most of the men who participated at Oblivion were to be enlisted as COG soldiers. This was their 'reward' for their valiant efforts in staving off a Locust raiding party. Honorary membership to a death sentence. Again, the COG's methods are as clandestine as ever.

A bump in the makeshift road they were traveling shook Cliff from his angry stare around the vehicle. The near-gravel road they traversed wasn't exactly an interstate in the first place, but this bump was particularly jarring. An explosion? Cliff took to his feet somewhat lazily, considering the possibility of a military situation, and stepped towards the top hatch of the transport.

"Hold on," interrupted one of the COG soldiers, trying to halt Cliff's movement, "let me check it out."

Cliff shoved the soldier aside and climbed up to lift the hatch.

"You really shouldn't go up there!" the soldier called after Cliff.

Light poured into the dark vehicle and blinded Cliff for a moment while he raised himself up over the hole and hopped out onto the deck of the giant rig. Once he gathered his sight and looked back at the bump, it seemed someone had negleted to notice a pile of Locust carcasses in the road. Then he decided he should take a moment to enjoy the sun. They'd been riding in that transport for hours. That's when he shielded his eyes from the sun to survey his surroundings.

"What the...?"

Looking out over the expanse of what used to be his home, Cliff slumped to his knees. The seared earth before him bore no resemblance to the warm place which housed his hopes and dreams just months before. It was a cold, vapid pit. A hole where all manner of disease could spread and flourish. A hole where all manner of evil and despair could fester and survive. A hole where the Locust could thrive. Still, the familiarity of the clocktower face laying on the ground was unmistakable.

"Stop the rig," said Cliff as he rose to his feet and jumped down onto the lower part of the rig's roof, then proceeded to run for the edge and vault over the railing to the hard dust below. With a thud and a roll, Cliff was up on his feet and making tracks for that clock face.

"Captain!" came a shout from the rig. Cliff continued his charge toward what was left of his home. It certainly wasn't much to the naked eye, but this location housed the last memories he had with his family, and he wasn't about to leave here without them. He collapsed upon reaching the clock face and scooped it up, pressing it against his forehead as his body convulsed with anguish and despair. His mind drifted to his daughter, who he had just taught to tell time before he left that day, so she'd always know when it was time to come home for dinner. His son, young, but proud of his father, holding her hand as he followed their mother down the sidewalk to the local supermarket.

Mother. Cliff's wife. Her hair, red as the sun just before dusk. Her smile, brighter than the same sun's noon. Her skin, silken and white like the light of the moon. She was his Day and Night. His everything.

"...ord? Clifford!"

Their footsteps were practically on him. Hearing the sound of their equipment jostling, he knew they were soldiers. Soldiers... They had taken his wife from him. They'd taken his day and his night. They had taken everything from him.

He placed the clock face on the ground and stood quickly, spinning around to find the nearest soldier with his right uppercut. The soldier, not expecting the blow, was rendered unconscious almost immediately. Cliff's hand was already on the soldier's Lancer assault rifle, and pulling it free of the unconscious man's failing grasp, turned it on the other soldiers following him. Cliff squeezed the trigger and let loose a stream of lead that sliced open an arm or two.

"CAPTAIN!"

Cliff stopped his assault. What had he just done? He took a quick survey of his situation. He'd punched out a COG, opened fire on two others... Looks like jailtime, at first glance. Cliff dropped the lancer he held at his side to the ground and bent down to the soldier he'd layed out. Checking the man's pulse, he assessed the man would be okay and rose to move forward and check the others. He was met with two Lancer barrels.

"Hold it, Cliff," spat Sergeant James "Hawk" Jenson, an old friend of Clifford's who had enlisted with the COG many years ago. "I'm gonna have to ask you to stay right there. Barnes, check the wounded."

One of the COG soldiers removed his helmet and began assessing the damage to the wounded soldiers.

"You mind telling me what that was all about, Cliff?" asked Sergeant Jenson.

"I-I don't really know," Cliff managed to stammer out. "I just reacted."

"Just reacted?" Jenson huffed. "You put holes into two of our men, and laid flat another with one punch. I'm pretty sure there's more to that story than 'I just reacted.' What's going on here?"

Cliff took a moment to shake his head free of the hate cobwebs that had been forming in his mind since their trip began. He had to get rid of all his negative thoughts about the COG if he was gonna explain this away. Couldn't have them bubbling up and surfacing themselves.

"The wounds here are superficial, Sergeant," said Barnes, the medic. "They're clear to continue."

Cliff offered his help. "Cash is fine, too."

"Oh, now you're a medic too, Cliff?" laughed Jenson, sarcastically. "You're wearing all sorts of hats today, aren't you? Ninja, medic, traitor..."

"I am no traitor, Sergeant," Cliff interjected, regaining some of his natural composure. He noted his left hand was clenched and shaking, so he did his best to hide it from Barnes until he could stop himself.

Jenson's sarcastic smirk faded and he looked sternly at Cliff. "I know, man, I know. It just seems our Captain is incapacitated, and I'm a little new at taking over for him. He doesn't normally get incapacitated. Now would you mind telling your friend what's wrong with you?" He lowered his weapon and motioned for the COG standing next to him to do the same.

"...Would it be possible to talk alone, Hawk?" Cliff asked, unsure of the answer, given that he'd just assaulted three members of the squad.

"Sure," said the sergeant. "Barnes, treat these guys, and we'll be back in a sec. Max is in charge while I'm busy." Sergeant Hawk motioned for Cliff to follow him, but hesitated and turned to Barnes again. "...And get some smelling salts under that guy's nose, will ya?"


	2. Chapter 2: Shame

"So what happened back there, Cliff?" asked Jenson. "Something about that old clock make you crazy?"

"That was Sherrith," replied Cliff.

Jenson looked confused. "New Sherrith? The city that-"

"No, old Sherrith," Cliff interrupted. "Sherrith prime. My home, Sherrith." Cliff lowered his head and felt his feelings start to well up again within himself, this time the were more feelings of sorrow than rage.

Jenson stepped up to Cliff and put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, man, I'm sorry. Don't worry about it. I won't make a note of this in the log. Nobody was hurt badly, and we won't-"

Cliff stopped him again. "I have to make a note of it."

"What?" Hawk was confused again. Cliff had a way of confounding him repeatedly.

"I have to make a note of it," Cliff continued. "Two of my men were shot. They're gonna need an explanation. I'm the squad leader here. I have to put it in the log."

"They'll suspend you, Captain. Maybe even a court marshall," warned Jenson.

"That's something I'll have to face, Sergeant," Cliff mused. Yes, believe it or not, a Gear in the COG harbors an intense hatred for everything about them. Shouldn't come as too much of a surprise, though. No one likes what the COG has done, but what can they say about it? They're all just Gears in the machine. If one of them breaks, they're replaced with another.

Jenson was shocked at Cliff's cool demeanor in the face of being imprisoned by those he hates. "We'll tell 'em we were attacked by rogue Locusts or something. They don't have to know, Captain."

"I'm not a good liar, Jenson. They know that. No good liar speaks out publicly against the government he works under and gets to stay public." Cliff knew that all too well. He was one of the names that protested the Hammer of Dawn counterattack. He ended up getting rewarded for his honesty by being placed in field operations. "Don't worry about me. I'll take control of the squad back now. You get everybody into the rig again. I'll just be a few minutes."

Hawk nodded and backed away from the captain before turning around and heading back to where the squad was recovering. Cliff headed off into where the city of Sherrith used to stand. He walked past multiple ashen bodies, some laying on the ground, covering their heads, some deteriorating because they were in a running position at the point of impact, many covering their children in the futile hope that their bodies would absorb all the heat from the fires and keep their offspring alive, not realizing they were trapping them in their arms to await their doom.

It was a gruesome picture, this city; as were so many other cities like it. A portrait of hopeless desperation, forgotten in time, Sherrith was a great city to live in once. Virtually untouched by the Pendulum Wars, it was a sort of symbol of stability in the nation of Tyrus. It was eventually abandoned and remade in New Sherrith, to the south. Still, those who continued to live in Sherrith enjoyed prosperity and protection, even up to E-Day. Sherrith was one of the few cities to hold back the Locust insurgence with relative success. Eventually, residents of the city were forced into nearby bunkers and other military protection zones. Then came the strikes.

A communication error left citizens of Sherrith late for the evacuation process. People simply didn't have time when the hammer dropped. Nearly every resident was wiped out. COG history books began to phase out any record of the city due to their absolute embarassment over not being able to save the people that had so valiantly served them.

Cliff felt the rage filling up in him again. He tried his best to keep himself in check, but fell to his knees and slammed his fist against the ashen dirt. That calmed him down a little. The pain of the hard dirt stopping his hand kept him focused on why he was there. He needed to see the house, or at least what was left of it.

Walking down the main street, it was a left, then a right. There it lay, the home he built. Had he found an ashen statue he might have lost it again, but there was nothing but the charred remains of a structure. Cliff sifted through the wood and metal af what looked like a much smaller place now, finding a chest of drawers that hadn't been completely burned through. He hastily lifted it up on it's side and opened all the drawers, three of them full of ash, but the second one from the bottom held things he recognized. There was a small, charred chain which used to hold a necklace he'd given his wife. A charred wire which used to bind a notebook she used as a diary of sorts. Still, all of it was burned, and a painful reminder of the terror unleashed upon his family.

When he opened the bottom drawer, his eyes welled up with tears. He found the old pocketwatch that belonged to her father. He'd given it to her to give to her husband one day. That ended up being Cliff. He brushed the ash off and found the silver casing to still be intact, despite some tarnishing. Opening it, he found the small red heart his daughter had drawn for him on a valentine card she made. It was singed around the edges, but it still fit perfectly. Cliff then recalled his son breaking this pocketwatch and learning how to repair watches just to fix it. He opened the inside to check the inner workings of the watch. They weren't still moving. The blasts had stopped the watch at 3:42. Still, his son's shoddy handiwork was still inside that piece.

Everything else in the drawer was burned, but that one piece remained relatively unharmed. _'What a cliché memento,'_ Cliff thought, laughing to himself while his tears made their way down his cheek. Still, he slipped it into his left vest pocket. Finally his whole family was close to his heart again.


	3. Chapter 3: Interruption

"Where's the captain?" Specialist Nathan Barnes asked Sergeant Jenson upon his return from the talk with Cliff.

Jenson sighed a little. "He's back in charge, and he's ordered me to put everybody back on the rig. It's safer there anyway."

Corporal Steven Max finally decided to chime in with "You ladies have fun with your girl talk over there?" while he kept pressure on his new shoulder bandage.

"Yeah," Jenson retaliated, "and we decided you've been hoarding all the tampons for yourself lately. Has your flow increased or something?"

"Haha! I forgot how funny you were in all this excitement, Hawk," quipped Private First Class Astor "Cash" Cashmont.

"You know I love a good joke," Jenson said, "and it's good to see you back in the waking world, glass jaw."

Cash lost his smile. "...Ha. Ha."

Jenson turned to Barnes, who was just finishing up his treatment of Private Dalton C, who, for whatever reason, refuses to reveal his last name to anyone beyond the letter C, and asked "How's he doin,' Doc?"

"He's doin' a lot of whining, that's for sure," laughed Barnes.

Dalton growled. "Well if you were a real doctor, I wouldn't be feeling all this pain, you walking pile of grub sh-AH!"

"Never heard of 'grub shah' before. Explain that one to me sometime, Private," joked Barnes after poking Dalton's wound and cutting off his insult.

"Okay, kids," interrupted Jenson, "let's get back to the rig. I'm sure momma's worried about us."

Max shrugged to his feet and headed immediately for the rig, followed by Cash. Barnes helped Dalton to his feet, who was grumbling under his breath about doctors, and they started off together with Jenson following behind them.

After walking along for a minute, Max stepped back to walk with Jenson. "Cap'n doin' okay, Hawk?" he asked with a low voice.

"He's fine, Max," Hawk reassured him. "No need to worry. This was his old home, is all. He's getting those feelings again. He'll be fine once he gets away from here and we rendezvous at the northern safe zone."

Max shrugged. "Here's hopin' he don't fly off the handle like that again. I never seen him look so wild, brother. Might have hit my heart, if I wasn't so quick."

"I said don't worry about it," Jenson continued to excuse Cliff's outburst. "The Cap-"

A sound cut Hawk's words short. Gunfire. He and Max looked up to find their rig with one tire in an E-Hole, and a couple more E-Holes opening around it.

Hawk was the first to speak up as he broke into a run. "Rho Squad, defend the rig! Dalton, Max! Into the cabin! Cash, take to the turrets with Barnes!" Hawk hit his communication earpiece. "Birdy, you okay in there?"

_"I'm up to my neck in trouble here, Hawk,"_ came her feminine voice over the radio. _"The auto guns are holding them back for now, but the engines are taking their sweet time warming up."_

"Sit tight and keep the civilians' heads low. No casualties!" ordered Hawk.

_"I only work miracles for you, boss!"_ Birdy called back.

By then, the squad was reaching their positions. Hawk posted up against the back side of the rig, where the defenses were lowest, and radioed the team again. "Rho Squad, once the engines come up, Birdy, let us know! We'll ride into town and pick up the captain, then get out of here!"

_"I'm already on my way back, Hawk!"_ came Cliff's voice over the radio. _"Just hold them there and keep me covered while I'm closing on your position!"_

"Copy, Captain! You heard him, gents: Rain fire!"

Hawk stepped out of cover and planted a lead seed into the forehead of a grub, then spun back into cover. Meanwhile, Cash was manning the turret and destroying any cover rocks the grubs were behind. Barnes directed his shots and picked off any grubs that tried to scurry to safety with his lancer. Birdy, Max, and Dalton were keeping the Stranded low and calm, taking potshots with Longshots and pistols when they could see a grub through a window. Like a well-oiled machine, they held back the Locust raid.

"KEEP THEM CONTAINED. DON'T LET THEM FLANK US IF YOU CAN HELP IT!" shouted Hawk. With this wide open terrain, that's just what they were trying to do. It would have been no surprise if they opened an E-Hole on the opposite side of the rig, exposing all sides to attack.

The engines on the rig sputtered to life, and Birdy didn't even need to give her call for Hawk to grab on and hoist himself to the top of it. The mass of machinery began moving away from the Locust squads, whose numbers were starting to dwindle in the first place, and headed for the town, where Hawk could see Cliff making a break for the rig. With the only turret on this rig facing forward, and the movement of the vehicle throwing the team's Lancer aim off, the grubs stepped out of their hiding places and gave chase on foot.

Giving credit where it's due: Grubs are not stupid.

Barnes, Cash, and Hawk all took cover around the turret and behind the hatch, but it wasn't long before the captain was reunited with his team.

Cliff was in full sprint towards the rig, but slowed to hop onto the front ladder and climb to the top. "EVERYBODY INSIDE," he exclaimed as he moved towards the hatch. Hawk and the others responded immediately. "Birdy, this is Cliff," he said over the comm as he closed the hatch and clung to it, "put us in reverse."

The rig stopped almost instantly, spewing dirt into the air all around the rig, concealing it. The Locusts kept moving closer and firing into the cloud of dust before realizing the rig was moving backwards. Most of them managed to jump out of the way, but one was crushed under the massive tires of this behemoth. When they managed to turn themselves around, they were in front of the rig, and Cliff was behind the turret. In a quick sweep, the grubs were no more.

_"WOO!"_ came Birdy's voice over the comm. _"I knew having the fastest flat-track rig in the biz had it's perks! Great shooting, Captain!"_

"And they told you it was superfluous for a rig to move like that, didn't they? Shows how much they know," said Cliff. "Let's make tracks for the safe zone, Rho Squad."

Taking one last look over his handiwork as they drove away, Cliff noticed some of the grubs laying on piles of wood they'd strapped to their backs. _'Well, what do you have there?'_ he thought. Since when did Locust raiding parties carry lumber?


	4. Chapter 4: Intrigue

Cliff opened up the hatch and slipped down the ladder into the hold, then turned around to find his Sergeant. "Report, Sergeant."

"No casualties again, sir. So far on this trip, you're the only one who's done us any damage," chuckled Hawk.

"Good," Cliff spat, intentionally overlooking the intended dig. "Birdy, how's she looking?"

"Hull sensors say those pale-skinned worm-people ruined my paint job," Birdy whined, "there are a billion dents in it. It's gonna take weeks to-"

Cliff cut her off, used to her going on and on about her rig. "Speaking of dents, I wanted to apologize to you guys."

"Hey, Cap'n," Max interjected, "ain't no skin off my nose. Just point your murderous instinct elsewhere next time, brother."

"I'll count that as an 'apology accepted,' I guess," the captain quipped. "Dalton, Cash, I'm sorry about what happened. That town was my home. I was feeling some pretty serious emotions I hadn't felt since the passing of my... my family. I hope you can forgive me for that outburst."

Dalton spoke up next. "Of all the people who've sicked the doc on me, most of them have been grubs. I'm glad it was a friend this time. Besides, I love yelling at the doc. Don't worry about it."

"Hey, superior officers embarass privates all the time. I just consider it part of the job," Cash said, offering his sarcasm as an acceptance.

"Thanks, team," said Cliff. "Now, back to work. What's our ETA after the detour?"

Birdy, still a little perturbed about Cliff ignoring her paint rant, put a little jab of her own into the conversation. "Well, with the hull damage we've taken we'll probably have some drag, but I think I can get us there in three hours, twenty-five minutes."

"Oh, I see. How much are you adding to take the drag into account?" Cliff inquired.

"Five minutes, at minimum," replied Birdy.

Cliff smiled and announced, "Okay, team, we'll be arriving in three hours, twenty minutes. Take your naps now, because we're gonna be busy helping these people unload when we get there."

Corporal Birdy huffed like a child.

"Keep watch on your charge, Hawk," ordered Cliff as he turned around to climb the ladder again.

"Will do," Jenson replied.

Cliff exited the rig's hatch and pressed his ear communicator. "Control, this is Rho Squadron."

_"Go ahead, Captain."_

"I'm putting in a friendly fire note on my record. I accidentally wounded two enlisted personnel under my command today, and punched out a third, all in an emotional outburst."

_"Wh-What? Why isn't Sergeant Jenson reporting this?"_

"It was an isolated incident. Sergeant Jenson has decided I'm still fit to command and I ordered him to let me report it. I'll report back once Specialist Barnes gives me a psych eval, but I have something else to report that might be a little more pressing."

_"O-Okay, go ahead, Captain."_

"We ran into a Locust raid during an unscheduled stop on our route. There wasn't supposed to be any activity in this desolate area. What are they doing out here?"

_"..."_

Cliff heard some papers shuffling and some typing on a keyboard. "...Control, do you copy?"

_"...Uh, y-yeah, yeah. I'm not finding any intel suggesting any activity near your position since the counterstrikes. I'm gonna have to report all of this. Was it some kind of out-of-the-way convoy siege?"_

"No, they didn't seem prepared for a strike on an armored vehicle. We fared surprisingly well. It's my professional opinion that they didn't expect us to be here. One of their E-Holes opened up under the rig where no enemy troops could exit."

_"Weird."_

"You're telling me. If I didn't know any better I'd say they were scouting out a place to set up a camp."

_"On the surface?"_

"Exactly. They brought building materials, even."

_"..."_

More shuffling. Cliff was getting a little uneasy with all this silence from Control. Usually they had things under... well, control. Noticing their hesitations made Cliff anxious. "Talk to me, Control."

_"Continue with your evac, Rho Squad. I'll relay briefing to you once you've reached the safe zone with your passengers. Control out."_

"Copy that. Rho out. ...Great." Cliff started muttering to himself about COG efficiency and headed back down into the hatch. Stepping off the final rung of the ladder, he stepped around it and headed into the driver's cabin with Birdy. "Barnes, I'm gonna need you in here with your bag."


	5. Chapter 5: Evaluation

Barnes stepped into the driver's cabin and slipped closed the door behind him. He turned to find Cliff sitting in a passenger seat like a defeated animal, shoulders slumped, legs splayed and limp. "You okay, sir?" he asked, a little concern in his voice.

"I didn't get a psych eval from you, Barnes. Standard procedure," announced Cliff, regretfully.

"Oh, I wasn't gonna give you one, Chief. You're not thinking of reporting it, are you?" Barnes was apparently also in favor of not telling anyone about his incident.

It surprised Cliff that so much of his team was supportive of ignoring military regulation for his sake. "I already did, Nate. They're gonna want a report on my mental health. I suspect I'll pass, but we have to be sure. There could be some important ops coming up in this region soon, and we need to know if I'm fit to command this unit in combat."

"Combat? Out here?" Barnes seemed shocked.

"We don't have orders yet, beyond 'finish your current objective.' Let's just get on with this," pleaded Cliff. "Birdy's gonna be our witness of the eval."

"Gotcha, Chief," said Barnes as he sat down and started rifling through his bag for the psych evaluation questionnaire.

It wasn't long before Cliff was answering questions about his past, present, future, mental stability, dreams, blah, blah, blah. Psychologist stuff.

Barnes was a good kid. A pretty well-seasoned soldier, even if he was just a medic in the field. Cliff remembered when he was reading Barnes' own psych eval when considering the list Control gave him with which to fill Rho Squadron. 'Competent' was a recurring word in regards to his medical expertise, but what stood out was his combat record to date. Since Cliff is someone who hates replacing soldiers, 'competent' seemed like a reasonable risk while being assured the whole team would have a medic in battle. Words like ' valor' and 'bravery' were in his combat record, and that's what counted in military ops. But, right now, in a psych evaluation, you could tell why they wrote 'competent' on his record. His monotone questioning of Cliff was not at all reminiscent of any good psychologist.

Cliff's mind started to wander as he answered the questions. Barnes did a lot of writing and 'umm'-ing. That left plenty of time to reflect on his team the way he'd been doing with Barnes. Occasionally a question would remind him of one of his squadmates.

"What sort of operations have you been involved in recently?"

Evacuations, of course. Stranded survivors weren't completely ignored these days. Ever since Oblivion was held by some random Stranded, value was placed on their lives. Suddenly they could be taught to join the army. That's how PFC Cash was enlisted. Before E-Day, Astor Cashmont was a rich boy with a fascination for military tech. His wealthy father had some connections with the COG that allowed Cash to get a hand on multiple kinds of non-commissioned weapons and communications technology. That played a hand in his being picked for Rho Squad as her Stranded liason. Cash didn't even have to go through weapons training when he arrived for duty. He just picked up a gun and shot all the field targets, put the weapon down and left. Knowledge is power, after all.

"Do you feel command of a squadron puts you in a position of power?"

Speaking of power, one would never guess the lowest-ranking private on the team would be the powerhouse of the crew. Private Dalton is a major asset to any team's offensive capability. So much so, it can be frightening to watch. He's a veritable death machine. Locusts litter the earth behind him. It's as if he was made for war. 'Made for War' was literally written in red on his service record. During his training camps the dorms would have paintball matches... against him. Cliff and Rho Squadron were just lucky enough to have him assigned to their team. Cliff, due to his avid protests of the counterstrikes, never recieved combat objectives for his squad: they couldn't let someone like him get any glory and prestige on the front lines. Control assigned Dalton to Rho Squad in order to teach him some of the intricacies of war apart from fighting. Even furthering his 'made for war' reputation, he flourished in this new position as well.

"When faced with changing conditions on the battlefield, how can attaining a new position assist you in overcoming your enemy?"

Talking about new positions easily segues into mentioning Corporal Leah "Birdy" Byrd, because she never expected to be here. She was a mechanic by trade, and owned the rig she drives for years before being forced to enlist by her father. This rig might as well be part of her, so she brought it with her to occupation. She's won all her war medals in this hunk of metal, if you'll pardon the homophones. She's very good at what she does, too. In fact, she had her rig up to current military specifications five years before the COG had the new rigs built. When they discovered that fact, they pressured her to join the ranks and become a transporter for them. She doesn't build anything new to be put into circulation, but she's constantly making her rig better than anyone else's, in one way or another, and that's why she was chosen by Cliff to be their chauffeur.

"Is it important for a leader to be a better soldier than his subordinates?"

Trying to be better than anyone else is exactly what Steve Max does. The corporal's psych breakdown includes words like 'narcissistic,' 'competetive,' and 'arrogant.' Cliff nearly threw away his file after reading it, but the words 'loyalty' and 'patriotism' were what stood out. Besides, he and Sergeant Hawk Jenson had worked together as members of Tango Squad before, and Hawk had put in a good word for him as being an effective and capable soldier. The two of them had been part of Tango Squad since before E-Day. Both of them soldiers, both of them friends, both of them competitors.

They were both corporals with Tango. Every objective gave them a new challenge, and Steven Max outperformed James Jenson every time. Their sergeant called their squabbles one-sided, but Jenson never gave up. He always watched Max like a hawk, learning from him and becoming better for it. It wasn't long after E-Day when newly-nicknamed Hawk finally proved he could be better than Max at something.

Their sergeant was downed in battle when an entire Locust battalion raided their camp under a famed Locust general. This left command to Max. Orders from Control came to retreat, which is something of which Max never approved. He decided to hold back the insurgents, even though he was vastly outnumbered. Hawk, tied to his duty to the COG, made the decision to order a tactical retreat to the privates they both outranked. One of them followed to help Hawk carry their commanding officer away from the battle, but the rest stayed to assist Max.

It's easy to see why Hawk was offered the promotion, and Max hasn't been promoted yet. Max was instrumental in holding their position that day, and his decision held off the horde long enough to allow air support, which drove back the enemy line. However, two privates were lost under his command, and his sergeant didn't make it to a hospital in time to save him. Tango Squad was disbanded and reassigned, splitting up Max and Hawk. It wasn't until a few months later they heard a prestigious new squad was being chosen to serve under a captain...

"Captain?"

Cliff was daydreaming. "Hm? What was the question?"


	6. Chapter 6: Arrival

"Well, I've reported your evaluation to Control," Barnes offered to Cliff after he climbed back down into the hatch. "You had a few problems in the 'loss of your family' category, but other than that, you checked out under my rules. Chances are they'll put you on probational leadership status for a few weeks but bring you back to being a full commanding officer after you clear a few objectives."

"Let's hope they'll be so kind," muttered Cliff.

_"Control to Rho Squadron, priority channel exclusive for Captain Clifford Lawrence, Field Commanding Officer."_

"Sounds important," said Cliff, almost sarcastically. "I'll take it outside," he said as he stood and headed for the hatch ladder. _'This old iron ladder is sure getting put through it's paces today...'_ he thought.

Cliff pressed his the comm. "Go ahead, Control." The signal was isolated to his frequency almost immediately as he began up the ladder and out the hatch. _'Come to think of it, the hatch has been up and down a lot today, too.'_

_"Cliff, this is Jerry,"_ came a voice familiar to Cliff. _"We got a live one for ya today."_

"Jerry! Long time, no talk. We had this rookie reporting to us before, and-"

_"Cliff! Shut-up! Have you reached the safe zone yet?"_

Cliff paused. Didn't he just get told to shut-up? "...Do-do you want me to answer that, or-?"

_"You know, you're a pile of fecal matter, Cliff. Just radio me as soon as you make your drop."_

"Jerry, _you_ called _me_."

The comm fell silent. Well, that was a fun conversation.

Cliff looked towards the head of the rig and caught sight of the fortress towards which it was barreling. They'd finally reached Safe House: North, the drop point. No Locust had been seen for miles around this haven. It served as a home for the lost, and a refuge for the weak. It also had the job of training up gears. They rarely lasted long, the gears that came out of these places. Training was literally less than a month, because the COG higher-ups knew shooting wood targets was no kind of practice. I guess bringing them to a training camp to teach them how to use weapons was all they could do, and the real soldiers would prove themselves on the battlefield. Everyone else was expendable.

Didn't matter. They'd brought the women, children, and elderly. None of this group would have to face the horrors of this war. They'd be held here until we'd slaughtered the Locust or driven them back into their holes. True, they'd be here a while, but the contingent of soldiers here, and their ever-regenerating supply of freshly-trained reserve soldiers were enought to make this one of the last places anyone would ever expect to fall.

As the rig inched ever closer to the gates, Cliff hopped back down into the hatch.

"What'd the bigwigs have to say?" asked Corporal Max.

"Get ready to hit the extraction point, Gears," ordered Cliff, ignoring Max.

Max, Cash, Dalton, and Barnes rose to their feet and prepared for the arrival, gathering their weapons and loading their packs. Cliff stepped into the driver's cabin, where he found Hawk massaging Birdy's shoulders as she piloted the rig. They'd been married a few years ago, and they loved one another fiercely. Everything about them seemed to fit together perfectly. Their nicknames were even related. Total coincidence. They shared deep brown hair and fair skin, brown eyes, long hair... They just looked like they should be together. Cliff looked on the innocent display of affection for a moment, appreciating the moment in a way they couldn't know yet.

"...Hey. Lovebirds," Cliff interrupted.

They both jumped a little, Hawk moreso. "Captain! Uh, we-we're coming up on the, uh... The place, er..."

"Cool it with the stuttering cliché, Hawk. I'm not gonna file a PDA report, but I do need you in the back with the passengers, Sergeant," Cliff couldn't help but smile through that whole order.

"Yes, sir," said Jenson, nearly saluting out of his embarassment as he shuffled past Cliff.

Cliff took a seat in the cabin next to Birdy. "You turn him into a Private every time, Byrd, you know that, right?"

"What can I say, Boss?" she quipped. "I'm sexy."

The captain laughed. "Okay, sexy, they're gonna be calling in for a clearance code, you have it loaded?"

"Sure do. Just hit that button when they need it." She motioned to a button near to Cliff. As if on cue, a communication came through to the rig.

_"Incoming transport, identify clearance."_

Cliff cleared his throat. "Rig D-41, Rho Squad responding. Sending clearance now." He mashed the button he'd been directed to with his thumb.

It took a second, but the communication came back positive, and Rig D-41 was welcomed into the massive wall-gate which housed one of the safest stretches of dirt on all of Sera.


End file.
